


Stressball

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Dark, M/M, Mirror Universe, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 19:48:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1953954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tuvok finds an outlet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stressball

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abbeyjewel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbeyjewel/gifts).



> A/N: Drabble for Abbeyjewel, set in the mirrorverse, conceivably around the “Through the Looking Glass” episode of DS9.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

The camp is loud and raucous, even at this time of night. Miscreants don’t sleep when they should, and Tuvok doesn’t have enough sway to make them settle down. He could deliver a few well placed pinches to some deserving necks, of course, but he’s hardly the only Vulcan fighting, and the sway of the rebellion has shaped him somewhat... differently.

He’s not the cold, stoic man he once was. Now he’s a mottled web of aggression leaking out of every corner: what it takes to fight for survival every day, to take lives left and right, and handle weapons with no ‘stun’ setting. He tempers his primal aggression the best he can, and it trickles out in other ways. 

The further he creeps down the dark cavern, the quieter it gets; all the gambling and arguments are done in the central chamber. He’s half surprised his usual target wasn’t in the thick of it, but then, nothing about his target should surprise him anymore. Terrans are predictable, for the most part, but some are erratic at best. 

The trail branches off, and Tuvok picks the most likely route, knowing after a few steps he’s right. Bathing is a luxury in the rebellion. He can smell the thick musk of _Julian Bashir_ , and when he comes to the end of the dark recesses, his glowing tricorder illuminates the curve of Julian’s back, curled up in a bundle on the floor. There are no bunks here. No real linens. Julian’s a mess, like all of them, and he grunts and shifts, glancing over his shoulder. His stubble’s gotten too long, like his hair. He rolls his eyes _like this is nothing_ and grumbles quietly, “You again.”

 _Him again._ A flicker of irritation twists its way up Tuvok’s spine, and for once, he doesn’t force it down. Here is where he lets his emotions out, because if he doesn’t somewhere, the fighting will drive him _mad._

He slips to his knees and puts the tricorder down, leaving it on, just enough to see Julian’s silhouette. The makeshift door is swallowed back in darkness, the close-knit walls lost the same way. There are bigger chambers that most sleep in, but Julian always wanders off to his own little holes; he doesn’t play well with others. 

He lets Tuvok play with him though, and it makes Tuvok wonder if he’s really the only one that _need this_. Something to hold on to. He lies down beside Julian and stretches along the Terran’s back, his hand landing on Julian’s too-thin hip—they’re all malnourished. He runs his long fingers down anyway and pulls Julian’s thigh back, forces Julian to uncurl, digs into his shoulder and breathes along his round ear: so exotic. Julian lets himself be unfurled and posed, but he jerks away from Tuvok’s face in faux defiance. 

Tuvok presses a firm kiss against his scruffy cheek, more angry than chaste. When Tuvok’s hands run along Julian’s thighs, they’re scraping like claws. Julian keeps his own hands in front of him like he’s trying to sleep. Sleep through a Vulcan _fucking_ him. Terrans can be so... illogical. 

Without any warning, Tuvok rolls over, right on top of Julian, crushing the smaller man down; Julian gasps for air but is too late to stop the movement. Tuvok lifts up on his elbows and shifts his knees to either side of Julian’s waist, making it easier to turn him. Julian’s rag-like clothes threaten to tear under Tuvok’s fingertips, but he grabs at them anyway, forcing Julian around, onto his back, staring up at Tuvok’s face with an expression halfway between disgust and lust. Tuvok shifts one leg in between Julian’s legs, and he’s surprised at how easily Julian gives in tonight, parting for him and spreading wide. There’s usually a bigger pretense.

Julian actually wraps his legs around Tuvok’s back, and he hisses, “Get it over with.” Like he doesn’t want it too. All he knows how to do is fight. The anger never looks quite right on him. He’s too small, too... _pretty_. Like he should’ve been born into something better than this, pampered and petted. But life wasn’t so kind. Tuvok shifts his weight to his left arm so the right can snake down between their bodies. 

Impatiently, Julian moves his hands to help. He shoves Tuvok’s hand away, as though pushing down his ratty pants is a privilege Tuvok hasn’t earned yet, and Tuvok isn’t particularly surprised to find he isn’t wearing underwear. Julian fishes in Tuvok’s pants the same way and snorts when he finds Tuvok’s cock already hard. Tuvok knew he was coming here to expel the excess of _feelings_ , and he mentally prepared accordingly. It’s all at the forefront, ready to be drained. 

A weak Terran should be afraid of a violent Vulcan backed into an emotional corner, but Julian doesn’t look scared—he’s had it all beaten out of him. Most of the people in the resistance have been through too much to feel fear the same way. Julian brings his hands back up and sucks two fingers into his mouth. Tuvok watches him suckle them and bob them in and out, coating them in saliva, and the sight of it alone makes Tuvok tremble, cock twitching; he’s so _vulnerable_ like this; so many things set him off. Julian always sets him off. He has no idea why. He’s been around vicious Terrans too long. 

Julian slides his fingers out of his mouth with a wet popping sound, and the hand disappears between their bodies, in between Julian’s legs. Tuvok doesn’t pull back to look; he’s already memorized the sight from other visits. He watches Julian’s face instead, the way it flinches, and Julian bites his lip, and he tries to hold back his gasps and groans. Tuvok forces patience, even though he came here for the exact opposite. He lets Julian finger himself open, knowing it won’t be enough. 

When Julian pulls his hand back up, he slips three fingers into his mouth, two the same as before. He’s dirty. Literally. Too filthy already to care. He licks his fingers, and before he can push his hand back down, Tuvok grabs it in his.

Tuvok takes Julian’s other hand too and slams them both into the ground. It’s too easy to hold Julian still, to pin his frail wrists. Julian glares up at him, and Tuvok has the sudden, horrible urge to watch Sisko slap Julian again, right across the face, make him bleed and tremble. 

Tuvok’s corrupted. He knows that. Beyond saving. But it’s necessary to _fight_ for their freedom, and he does what he must. 

He pushes his hips down, shivering when the leaking head of his cock presses against Julian’s half-hard shaft. He drags it lower, sliding down to Julian’s tight sac, and then he finds his way between Julian’s cheeks. As soon as he finds Julian’s hole, he knows it’s too small, too dry. He sucks in a breath. It should stop him.

It doesn’t. 

He slams inside in one precise, fluid movement, and Julian bucks and screams, arching off the cave floor. Tuvok’s hands keep him down. Tuvok shoves deeper and deeper, even though Julian’s walls are wildly convulsing in protest, trying to push him out, really just sucking him in, and Tuvok stabs his way doggedly forward, only enticed by the tight heat and the overwhelming pressure. Julian has a _great_ ass. Terrans always do. But there’s something about Julian’s in particular that makes Tuvok hiss in pleasure, and he sinks his way to the very core, sheathing his huge cock to the brim. His balls hang against the puckered entrance, damp in the miniscule spit and the sweat of the day. Tuvok tilts his head to run his teeth along Julian’s neck, showing he’s pleased with his find. 

Julian shivers when Tuvok bites him but can’t do any more. Tuvok sinks in deep enough to draw copper blood and lets his hips pull half out, dragging a moan. 

Then Tuvok slams in again, and Julian still cries out. Tuvok doesn’t care. They’re deep enough in the caverns that no one’s likely to hear, and even if they could, they’d hardly come running. Sex is how half the troop gets their aggression out when there are no Cardassians to shoot at; the captain’s the one who gave him the idea in the first place. Julian’s one of the better-looking ones—if Tuvok wasn’t fucking him, someone else would.

The thought of someone else claiming this riff-raff makes him insanely angry, and Tuvok takes it out in another brutal thrust that slams Julian’s hips too hard into the floor; Julian gasps in pain, and for a moment, Tuvok’s worried he’s broken the poor Terran’s hips. But then, he knows Julian’s made of tougher stuff than that. He’s taken more ware and tear. Tuvok fucks him again and releases his neck, nipping a crude trail up to his soft ear. Julian, eyes scrunched and teeth grit, looks away: it gives Tuvok access. His fingers are digging red marks into Julian’s wrists. He runs his tongue along the shell of Julian’s ear, and he nips at the lobe, not as hard as he’d like. 

By the time he kisses his way down Julian’s harsh jaw to his open mouth, his cock’s hard against Tuvok’s chest. Tuvok doesn’t deliberately aim for Julian’s prostate, but his cock’s big enough that it’s not a difficult angle to manage. He knows he’s hitting it erratically, but he doubts Julian’s had better. There’s a certain desperation in the way Julian kisses, and Tuvok allows the charade of intimacy as far as it suits him. 

Julian starts to whimper when he’s near his orgasm. All his toughness fades away, and he tries to jerk his wrists free of Tuvok’s grasp, but Tuvok doesn’t let him go, knowing he’ll only grab at Tuvok’s shoulders. Tuvok doesn’t want to be clung to; he wants to release energy and fuck Julian hard and clear his head. Julian’s panting so hard that he can’t keep up with kisses, and Tuvok lets him break away every few seconds to suck in air. 

Tuvok slams deep inside and lingers this time, grinding around on purpose, and Julian _shrieks_ as Tuvok’s thick cock rubs his prostate. He bursts between them, and Tuvok ignores the sticky mess for now; their clothes are already stained anyway. They’re still wearing their clothes. It makes it easier to be quick and thoughtless. 

When Julian finishes coming, he’s limp and spent, and his head rolls away from Tuvok: submission. Tuvok could keep biting him and fucking him, but half the fun of it’s gone. 

Tuvok lets himself reach completion deep inside Julian’s body, aware, like he always is, that this act should be done with protection—resources none of them have. As it is, he doesn’t bother to pull out; he’s filled Julian up too many times to bother. Julian grunts as his walls are painted in hot Vulcan cum, but otherwise he doesn’t move. Tuvok hovers over him and fucks the rest out, pounding it in for all he’s worth. 

Then he stops abruptly, still inside, and lets out a shaky breath. He’s held up better than Julian, but that isn’t saying much. The ripple of uncontrolled _emotions_ wracks him more than the physical exertion. His release is a relief. 

When he pulls out, Julian moans, and his legs slump uselessly to the floor. 

Tuvok pushes himself to his feet, feeling hazy and heavy, and stares down at the disgusting mess he’s become. Julian doesn’t look at him. 

Julian rolls over onto his side, hiking his pants lazily back up, though he still looks fucked raw and broken. His eyes close like he’s just going to drift back to sleep, like none of this happened. 

Maybe to him, it didn’t. 

Tuvok hesitates with the words he never says and leaves, feeling colder than before, not all in the ways he wanted.


End file.
